Just a Man With a Skeleton
by Delectable Desires
Summary: Christine turns Raoul away, letting herself admit her love for Eric. But he has disappeared with her heart and left her with something she won't ever forget. . .
1. Chapter 1

Christine ran down the stairs, her dress flying out after her. She glanced around quickly, then kept running. She was relieved when she found her door, stepping inside, then locking it behind her. She ran to the mirror, the one that Eric always used to find her. She slid it open cautiously, then stepped past the threshold, picking up her feet as to make no noise.

Christine shut the mirror-door behind her and walked down the spiraling steps. She would bounce over the traps, lunge over the trap doors, and glide past the eerie and empty corridors. She reached the bottom of the stairs and gasped. Near everything was gone. All of the music, the candles, the music box. Everything was missing, except for the two magnificent mirrors, the organ atop it the small layouts of the productions, and the bed Christine had slept on times before.

Christine felt her soul weaken, and she jumped into the water, treading toward the empty cave. She hoped he had left her something, a way of saying goodbye. She climbed the stairs from the water and looked around delicately, not touching anything she didn't find addressed to her. She let her tears fall when she found nothing. He was gone, as was her heart with him. She didn't understand. They could've lived. It would've worked.

She let herself collapse on the bed and cry. She didn't want it to end like this, she wanted him with her. She could change him for the better. After a while, she stood and dried her tears, making her way back to her room, to await dinner call.

It came not long after she had arrived back at her room, and Christine shuffled out dutifully. She wasn't hungry, but felt the need of human companionship. Too long had she depended on inanimate objects. She was shoved and prodded in the crowd that was heading to the dining hall. She spoke to no one and kept her head down, until two feet stood before her, blocking her way.

Christine looked up and her heart sank. It was Raoul, in all of his shining armor. She smiled unconvincingly as he grabbed her chin. He peered into her eyes, wondering why she looked so glum.

"Darling, what is the matter?" He asked. She turned away from him, not wanting to let him see her tears. She had decided.

"At the moment, Raoul-." her voice broke, "I do not think it is right for us to be engaged. Let us still be friends, forever your little Lottie. But please, not now. I cannot commit my heart to you just yet." And she put the ring, on a chain, into his hand, closing it for him and drawing it to his chest. She kissed his cheek and walked away, knowing in the back of her mind that he would never let her go. Neither would the phantom.

She sat emotionlessly at the table, just in time. The cooks and kitchen hands brought out the food on large platters, scattering it at the table. Christine groaned as Piangi slopped near all of one plate of mashed potatoes for himself. Carlotta smiled at her lover, then at the Vicomte. He smiled back without enthusiasm.

Christine groaned again. She felt herself about to be sick. She excused herself hastily, Raoul, Meg, and Madame Giry's eyes darting to look at her. She ran out, holding her stomach. She hadn't been able to hold anything down for a while, and decided (while heaving against the wall) that she should go see a doctor.

Christine found a messenger boy and tipped him well, hoping he would hurry. She needed to find an available doctor. She had a ghastly thought locked in the back of her mind, and as she stood in the curb, it snuck into her mind. She shook it off and rested her head in her hands, crying frustrated tears.

Eric greeted the woman cheerful enough. She knew her craft well, she had stories and witnesses to prove it. She, however, was not what he expected. The lady was black, short and frail, although by her personality you wouldn't have been able to tell. She had her gray hair tied up into a crimson cloth. It reminded Eric of the color of a rose. He shook his head as to rid himself of it, turning his attention back to the woman.

"The mask." She said bluntly, gathering items on her desk behind her. Eric hesitated, but took the mask off as she ordered. He felt revealed, exposed. He was surprised that the woman didn't cringe as she turned to look at him. She ran her hands over his scars. She was thinking, he could tell. She nodded and turned back away from him, grabbing a bottle of something.

The lady, Susanna, was holding a clear liquid, and it was obvious she was about to put it on Eric's face. He grabbed her wrist firmly before she began.

"What is this? What will it do?" Eric asked, staring into her eyes in case she lied.

"It is an herb. It will smooth over your face. It will flatten your lines and scars." She never looked away, nor did she hesitate. He nodded and let go, letting her proceed. The liquid felt good on his hot skin. He closed his eyes and waited until Susanna was done, wondering what his new life would be like.

"Okay." She said, drying off the last bit of it, then handing him a mirror. He closed his eyes and held the mirror up to his face, then reopening them. He immediately felt tears. He looked . . . normal. Both sides of his face were smooth and handsome. He looked up at Susanna, not knowing how to thank her.

"It's okay, honey. I know you're thankful." He stood and kissed her on the cheek, dumping on her desk the promised amount and some extra. He placed his hands on her one last time, giving her a grateful look, then walked out into the night, for the first time without his mask.

He tucked his mask into his pocket and walked the streets, pride gleaming from him. The women were noticing him, not running away in fear. The men, although they would never admit it, were afraid of him, his muscular shape and handsomeness. But as he kept walking, he remembered the opera. He remembered all of the people he killed with his two hands. He let himself grow humbled and shoved his hands in his pockets, walking with his head down the rest of the way to the entrance to his cave, though he need no longer hide there.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine realized it was morning as the bright sunlight hit her face. She groaned and then shot up, remembering last night. Had she really fallen asleep on the curb? Where was she? She looked around frantically, then sighed as she realized she was in her room, safe from harm. She stretched and yawned, then climbed out of bed. She stopped and turned back as she spotted a stray item on her night stand. On it lay an envelope with a blue seal. Raoul. She sighed sadly.

She moved to it and opened it, wondering why it was so heavy. Inside lied the ring she had given to him yesterday. She let it fall into her hand and she looked at it before reading the letter.

_**Dear Christine,**_

_**I shan't act as if I understand your actions, I freely admit I don't. But know that I shall never leave you. I will always be there for you. Take this ring now as a token of my affection, not as a burden. Wear it with the comfort and peace of mind of knowing that you can always come back to me. I will never turn you away. **_

_**Love always,**_

**_Raoul_**

Christine thought about whether she would wear it or not. What harm would it do? Christine decided it wouldn't hurt anyone so she clasped it around her neck, letting it lay on her cleavage. She smiled and ran her fingers over it in the mirror admirably. Then, she changed for her appointment and cleaned her face, afterwards dancing down the stairs gracefully.

Meg was the first to see her, and giggled at her best friend's antics. She stood and waited for her at the end of the stairs. Christine arrived not a moment later, lunging off the last four steps to pose gracefully at the bottom. They both giggled.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked, fully curious. Christine smiled.

"To the doctor's." She shrugged. "Just for my sickness. I was hoping to get some medicine so I can actually eat something." Mag chuckled. Christine had always enjoyed eating. Her friend waved good bye and Meg went back to her practices, hoping to someday out-dance Christine.

Christine allowed the old man to assist her into the carriage. He smiled and leaned back, a signal for her to tell him where to go.

"Oh, Dr. Wilmington's please." She asked quietly, letting the cold wind whip her face. She felt nothing as the whirls overtook her, and she closed her eyes to let them engulf her. But they died off eerily and she reopened her eyes, staring out at the passerbyes and all of the buildings.

The carriage arrived swiftly and Christine stood before the doctor's office, nervous but unsure why. She did know why, but she wouldn't let herself admit it. A lady and her small child emerged from the office and the little girl grinned, showing her toothless grin and a peppermint in her mouth. Christine stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her.

She sat for what seemed like days, but was merely near four hours. She wondered what disease was spreading the city that all of these poor children were sick. She let every child go before her, knowing she would survive another day, unsure the same could be said for them. Finally, the doctor came out and smiled at her.

"Ah, Christine Daae, I haven't seen you in so long. Come, let us see what illness has fallen you." The doctor had always been warm and kind to her, but his beard looked particularly gray, perhaps from the loss of all the newborns in London. It was a ghastly high rate, stillborns, and Christine found the numbers hard to bear. She obeyed, sitting on the wooden bed, shocked on how stiff it was. She found her back hurting not after long.

"All right, just let me take a few vitals." The doctor took her pulse, blood pressure and listened to her breathing. He turned to her with a concerning look, Christine knew something was awry.

"And what are your symptoms, my dear?" He asked, grabbing his papers.

"Nausea, insomnia, loss of balance, frequent urination . . . I uh, think that's it. Oh, and when I eat, I can't eat much. I get really full quickly." She added in an afterthought. He nodded grimly and looked her in the eye.

"My dear, I fear you have no illness." Christine didn't understand. Then why was she sick? Unless . . . She and the doctor spoke in unison.

"I'm pregnant." (Okay technically the doctor would've said 'you're pregnant')

Erik looked at his cave in rage. They had removed everything they could lift! The only things left were his organ, the bed, and the golden mirrors. He sighed and decided he would go shopping tomorrow. But right now he was exhausted. He sprawled onto his bed, the one he and Christine had shared not long ago, and he fell asleep, surrounded by her scent.

Christine walked numbly to the curb, and called a carriage. She stepped into it, unable to speak it seemed. She pointed at the Opera Populaire and he nodded, seeming to understand her shock. He slapped the reigns and they jerked forward into the snow. Christine thought she saw light coming from the side of the Opera House. She knew she was only imagining, and focused her eyes on the sight of the city before her.

She thanked the man and paid him, climbing from the carriage. She shuffled up the stairs, and leaned against one of the large pillars of the opera house, sobbing. She could see her breath and the light snow that was dusting her. She heard the door swing open, and turned with a jerk. It was only Meg, a confused look on her face.

"What is it, Christine? What is wrong?" Her best friend wrapped her arms around her, allowing the helpless girl cry onto her, smoothing her hair. It was a while before Christine pulled away, faking a smile.

"It's nothing. I'm fine. Thank you, Meg." She kissed her on the cheek and walked away, back into the Opera House.

Christine made hastily to her room, slamming the door behind her. She locked it and collapsed, letting her sobs wrack her. She stood weakly, and fell onto her bed, crying until she fell into a deep sleep.

The sound awoke Erik. He sat up and stood, curious as to who was crying. It was very loud. Erik grabbed his clock and put on, then used his boat to get across the river, following the sound. He climbed the steps, a guilt filling him. But why would he fill guilty about this?

Then he realized that the sound came from Christine's room, and he quickened his pace. He slid the mirror aside only a crack, where he could see her. She was sobbing quite forcefully. What was wrong? She was still wearing Raoul's ring, so that wasn't the problem. He also knew that she had received the lead role in the new production. He waited until she had fallen asleep, (she was always a heavy sleeper) and opened the mirror all of the way.

He realized she was shivering from the cold room. He removed his cloak and placed it gently over her. Then, he lit the fireplace and kissed her forehead lightly. Then, he left another rose with not a black ribbon, but a white one. Afterwards, he slipped back into the darkness, climbing back down the stairs. He sighed contently and fell asleep, glad to know that Christine was still here. He could still watch over her.

So, do you like it? I'm kinda sad,I don't have any reviews. AndI actually _like_ this story. . .hmm. . oh well!

-Rae-


	3. Chapter 3

Christine awoke the next morning and immediately felt safe. Then, she realized it was only because she thought she had smelled Erik's cologne. But she sighed and rolled over, knowing she had been mistaken. But as she sat up, she noticed the cloak that had been laid over her during the night. She sat up and inhaled it. It belonged to Erik, she knew it did. She had worn it several times before.

She stood and set her feet on the floor, instantly drawing them back from the cold floor. Then she stood and laid the cloak (with great care) on her dresser and began to look for a dress suitable for the day. Every few seconds she would glance over at the article of clothing and wonder how it got there. Was Erik back? Impossible. Christine knew he would never come back. He was long gone now, and he retreated away from the police, the cruelties, and her.

She was considering skipping breakfast until she remembered she had to care for the baby and sighed, sliding a cotton shaw over her shoulders, as she shivered from how cold her room was. She unlocked the door and opened it to find Madame Giry before her.

"Christine, my dear, I am quite disturbed about what Meg told me last night. What is wrong, child? You cannot keep it to yourself, Christine, you will only find that it hurts you." Christine gaped at her bluntness. The old woman that had come to be so matronly towards her pulled her into a hug, and Christine found herself crying once more, unable to force them back.

Madame Giry beckoned her inside her dressing room and shut the door. Christine found her handkerchief (oh wow that was fun to say) and wiped her eyes.

"Madame Giry . . ." She whispered, gaining the old woman's attention. She inhaled with a shudder.

"I'm pregnant." She whispered even quieter. Giry's eyes widened and she walked towards her, holding out her arms. Christine was surprised by her understand and cried into her, as she had Meg last night.

"I'm so sorry, my dear. I would help you, but I fear I haven't the slightest idea of where he went." She admitted, wiping a falling tear from Christine's cheek. Christine was glad she didn't have to admit out loud that it was Erik's baby. She didn't want to. She shook her head solemnly.

"Neither do I." She replied, and stood once more, hearing the final breakfast bell. She smiled another fake smiled and opened the door, allowing Madame Giry to step out before her. She shut the door and together they walked to breakfast.

Erik walked the streets with a confidence he had never had, the horrible guilt of being a murderer suppressed to the back of his mind. He smiled at women, who smiled back, and stared into the eyes of men that would've tried to kill him two days ago. He walked to the furniture store, planning to buy cloth, rugs, and some (of course) new furniture. That was when he saw the Giry girl, looking at nothing but cradles. He smirked. He figured she'd become a whore soon enough. He was glad his suspicions were right.

He listened in intently as the salesman approached her. He too, seemed concerned with her being so young and looking for cribs.

"Have you found anything you'd like, Mademoiselle?" He asked, looking around. She smiled heartily.

"Yes, I'd like that cradle over there. It's for a friend. I'm sure she'll love it." She stated, pointing at a very fine crafted dark cherry crib. It matched Christine's furniture. He gasped. No. It couldn't be. She wasn't . . . He fled the shop quickly, nearly sprinting back to the Opera Populaire.

He strode inside, not thinking he might look a bit curious, and climbed the stairs to her dressing room. He opened the door and was disappointed when she was not there. So he sat on her bed and stared at his cape, the one he had lain on her the night before. He heard footsteps, quite a few of them, ramble down the hall. He sighed. They had just excused themselves from breakfast.

He sat confidently on her bed, waiting for her return. But as he heard and saw the doorhandle jerk, his confidence was lost. He darted behind the mirror, watching her from a crack.

She was so beautiful, so delicate yet strong. He watched as she began a solemn dance, standing on her toes. It was slow and sad, it seemed to match her emotion. As she did a twirl, however, she slipped and almost fell, grabbing her chair at last minute. She stood back up straight and grabbed her stomach. She looked down at it, then removed her hand and made her bed. She tidied her room then sat on the couch that lay perpendicular to her bed. She began to sing quietly.

"You, my baby, my child so warm.

Know I am caring, though my heart is torn

I will never leave you, always love you,

I swear to you your father would love you too . . . " The tune drifted off as she wiped away a tear and then sang the last tune.

"If he knew you were here." She removed the hand she had laid on her stomach. She stood, hobbling a bit before regaining her balanced and resumed her dancing, singing along quietly to keep count.

Erik stepped back, unable to breath. She was pregnant, and he was nearly one hundred percent sure it was his, for Raoul was still there, still in the Opera House. His mind spinning, he gave once last look at Christine and jumped down the stairs at an exceedingly fast rate. He couldn't let her see him, she wouldn't recognize him. Or would she? She was the one person who had judged him by his soul, not his face. But his soul was not as clean as his face now was.

Then he remembered the ever-giving redemption. He ran in the direction of the hidden door to the chapel.

He arrived swiftly, and fell on his knees to beg redemption. He lit a candle for each man he killed and prayed to the Unnamed God. He felt his soul rinse off some of his black heart and he felt rejuvenated, walking back down a hidden corridor to reach the outside world. (Note: I am not trying to suppress my religion or 'Erik's religion' on you)


	4. Chapter 4

The priest's forgiving words had rejuvinated Erik in a way he'd never thought possible. Erik stepped out into the market and bought only an apple and a roll with his superfluous amount of coins. He smiled at the young boy who had handed him his apple. He winked and flipped a doubloon ( I don't know what the English currency was back then) into the air. The little tike caught it and grinned, stuffing it into a pocket of his vest. He bowed and Erik kept walking, acting as if nothing had happened. He whistled a tune he had composed and had a little pep in his walk, almost a rhythmic beat.

Then, it came to him. The most brilliant thought known to man. He could buy the Opera Populaire. He could watch over Christine. He would only have to convince the Vicomte. He wasn't sure how easy this would be. He sighed hopelessly. This would be his greatest feat yet.

Christine moaned in frustration as she sat against the bed. Her head hit the wall with force as she slumped down, and she yelped in pain. She rubbed it, frowning. That really hurt. She just hoped she wouldn't fall. She closed her eyes and dozed off, waiting for rehearsal to begin.

"Vicomte, there is a gentleman by the name of Malakai Rodriguez here to see you." The maid said, standing in the doorway of Raoul's office. He was packing up his things, preparing for a long break. He needed to get away from Christine. Maybe then she would notice how much she loved him, once he was gone.

"Yes, yes. Send him in." He groaned, packing an ink bottle snugly into his briefcase. He looked up as the gentleman stepped in. He was much taller than Raoul, easily by five inches. He had dark, black wavy hair. He also had an expensive suit on, one that was only made in Paris. Raoul was impressed.

"Hello, sir, my name is Captain Malakai Rodriguez. I'm here to inquire about the Opera House. It is very lovely, monsieur." Erik didn't know where he had gotten the name, but he stuck to it. He glanced around at the office, one of the only rooms he didn't spy into. He had no reason.

"Honestly, at the moment I shan't know what it going on. Sir Firmin and Andre left weeks ago, too befuddled by the phantom to stand any longer. They left Populaire to me, and I too am escaping. But I do believe the phantom is long gone, monsieur." Indeed, Erik agreed.

"Sir, I have come hoping to buy a share of this opera house. Is this anyway possible?" Raoul stopped what he was doing and stared at the man.

"Why, yes, of course! Oh what a godsend!" Raoul grinned. This was perfect. If he sold half the Opera to another he would still be able to watch over Christine but also travel, get away, any not be tied to the suffering of the opera house. He grabbed the man's hand and shook it heartily.

"Now, what did you say your name was again, sir?" Raoul asked too delightedly.

"Uh, Captain Malakai Rodriguez." Erik sighed in relief. He had blanked out for a moment there. Raoul sat down at his desk, beckoning for Erik to take the other seat. He obliged and pulled out his check book.

"What is the asking price, Vicomte?" He looked up and smiled at the poor boy rubbing his chin.

"Well, let's take it this way. If you pay for all the equipment and such for a year, this being items such as costumes and props, I shall give you half the theater. Fair?" 'Malakai' grinned and placed his checkbook back into his pocket.

"Indeed." They shook hands and then the Vicomte de Changey called for a company meeting, with Captain Rodriguez in wake.

The meal bell rang fiercely as Christine's head jerked up. This was odd, they had just had lunch. _They must want a meeting, _Christine thought dreadfully, _a long, boring meeting about Carlotta or Piangi. What a waste of time. This is cutting out of practice on the sixth act, the one none of us knows. _The girl with spiral hair groaned and slid her ballet slippers back on, first wrapping her bloody feet with a bandage. Her body would suffer for her lack of ballet practice in the last few months.

Christine was one of the last to arrive on the stage and she stood in the back, leaning against the wall. She was uninterested in what the others were so eager to look at. She sighed and wished she was off somewhere else, dancing and singing with Erik . . . She scolded herself. No! She told herself, _I will not think of him. Not now, not until he returns. _

As Raoul spoke, Christine began to feel sick. An eeriness came over her. She felt her body go numb and watched helplessly as her vision blurred, her body collapsing into a dark, black abyss. She mentally chastised herself as her consciousness left her body and she went limp onto the floor, her last attempt to fall on her side luckily successful.

Erik saw her drop, behind the pack of all the people, and he shoved his way to her, but was beaten by Madame Giry. She already had the girl cradled in her arms, her face stricken with fear. Erik nodded at her and lifted his lover's body to his chest, carrying her back to her room. As he stepped, Madame Giry shouted for a doctor.


	5. Chapter 5

WARNING! LEMON! Love, -Rae-

Erik felt his heart stop as she fell. He let out a silent gasp and rushed to her, shoving his way past the people that had been staring at him. Madame Giry was already there, cradling her adopted daughter. Her face spoke the story. He looked at Giry and nodded, taking Christine's limp and lifeless body from her, and carrying her to her room. Madame Giry shouted for a doctor behind them.

As he walked down the hall, the only thing he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears and the thud of his boots that echoed in the empty corridor. He kicked open her oak doors and strode inside, placing her gently on the bed. Her face was calm, although Erik was panicking. Was she alright? Where was the damn doctor? Would she recognize him? Would she lose the baby?

It wasn't long before a crowd had formed at the threshold of the door. Raoul had sprinted before all of them and fell on his knees next to Erik at her Christine's bedside. His face showed panic and shock. Erik sighed. He obviously didn't understand. He sighed in relief as Madame Giry's voice rang over the whispers of the company outside.

"Move! Move it, out of the way! Dr. Hadj must get through!" The people parted and an old man, in his fifties at least, stepped into the room. Madame Giry followed, but froze when she gazed upon Erik. He shrugged off her stare and moved swiftly to the doctor.

"She is pregnant, about three months along." He whispered almost inaudibly to the man. He nodded and sat on the bed, pulling a stethoscope out of his bag. Madame Giry shut the doors to shield her adopted daughter from the eyes of many, but only after collecting Raoul and convincing him that he would be more of a help outside the room. The doctor checked her thoroughly and stood when he was finished.

"It is a simple diagnosis. She is young and this pregnancy is taking a toll on her body. She needs rest and relaxation among other things. Stress is not good for an expectant mother. " He reached into his bag and pulled out some pills.

"Vitamins, to help her body adapt." He showed them two bottles of brightly pills. "And herbs, to help fight any infection." He handed them some leaves and dried flowers. "Just mix them in with her daily food and have her take her vitamins twice daily. See me for refills." Erik stood and shook hands with Doctor Hadj and took the pills. He set them gently on the dresser. He stayed with his back to them until the door clicked closed.

"Erik, this has gone too far. You need to tell her you're here. She's all alone and needs someone to hold her, comfort her." Giry's voice was almost trembling. Erik swallowed nervously.

"And so I will. But she cannot be told now, for it is too early." Erik looked over at the dormant mother. "She would not handle the news well at the moment. Give it time." He turned back to Madame Giry and saw her begin to object, but silenced herself.

"Just promise me Erik, that there will be no more murders. I don't want Christine to have to live with the child of a fugitive murderer." Erik nodded and then slid past her, kissing Christine on the forehead before he left. With one last glance, he pulled close the two-way mirror.

He stormed down to his dungeon, not entirely sure why he was upset. He leapt off his boat and sat on his organ, and thought of composing something or other. But the only thing he could bring his mind to was the last time he and Christine had been together.

They had been flirting in Christine's room, talking about the latest performance. In an instant of boldness, Erik had swooped her into his arms and carried her down the stairs to his 'lair'. He had thrown her on the bed and she had giggled, staring up at him almost pleadingly. This hadn't been the first time she had looked at him this way.

**The beginning of the sex, so if you don't wanna read, skip to the next warning**

He felt her arousal in the air and he slid his hands under her night slip, a very thin one at that. He pulled it over her head and felt her arm snake itself over his shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her, their tongues fighting for dominance. Erik felt himself harden as he looked down upon her, her legs on either side of him. She was already naked and he was nearly fully clothed. He began to pull off his clothing and stealing kisses in between, thankful for her help in pulling off his shirt. At last, he let his pants fall and his hardened member caressed her inner thigh.

She moaned and arched towards him kissing his neck gently. He caressed one of her breasts and licked it slowly, enjoying her lust. He felt the nipple perk up and he laughed, nipping it softly. He only stopped when Christine's hand had fallen down far, and grasped his penis. He inhaled sharply, surprised. She bent down and kissed the head lightly, then let her tongue explore. He moaned and leaned back onto the bed, pulling her up with him.

There she lay grinning, her legs spread apart. He leaned over her, pecking her inner thigh, inching closer to her area and then, licked it quickly. She moaned again and ran her hands through his hair. Then, suddenly, he plunged a finger inside of her. She moaned and arched her back, her eyes closed.

"Do you want this Christine?" He hissed in her ear.

"More than anything." She replied and then, she pulled him into her, moaning and throbbing in pleasure. He pulled out and then thrust in harder, faster, and deeper. She gasped and shouted his name. "Again," She asked, begged. He obliged and slammed himself into her, praised by her screams of pleasure. He felt himself climax and before he could pull out, he felt his seed spray into her.

Christine rolled over, she was now on top and slid his member in and out of her as she watched his face with glee. He was groaning now, his turn to enjoy. She grabbed his shoulder and plunged him as deep into her as he would go. She screamed and fell against him, still inside her. He rolled her back over and just leaned over her for awhile. Then, she felt his penis harden inside her. She gasped and locked her hands behind his neck, her tongue everywhere.

Erik grabbed her hips and grinded her, forcing deeper than ever inside of her. He felt her body go numb and she let go of him. He plunged inside as fast as he could, racing against himself. She arched again and she felt her orgasm come. Erik knew it too, as her walls tried against him, pushing with strength.

**The End(of the sex anyway)**

He pulled out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they fell asleep together. He had awoken in the morning to find her already gone and dissolved into the bustling noise of the company's practice. He dressed hurriedly and slunk to the raptors to watch her and the performance. He grinned as he spotted her in an ivory dress, walking oddly. She was sore, but he had figured as much.

She glided onstage and began a graceful solo, to the accompaniment of a cello and violin. The idiots working the light still hadn't focused the spotlight on her, but he let it blow by. After the rehearsal was finished, he fell back into the shadows and worked on his latest composition until he grew too weary to think, reminiscing of soft kisses.

That was the last time, and most likely the time in which she had conceived. Then, as he stood from his bench, he was startled by a revelation. He was going to be a father. He was going to have a baby with Christine. _They were going to have a child. _He'd never thought that this would happen to him. He figured, well, that he would die alone in the Opera House dungeon. But he stood and climbed to the mirror and he walked gently to Christine, and touched her stomach. It was protruding now, but not too horrible visible. Then, he kissed her stomach, just barely letting his lips brush against her.

He stood tall as he took once more down the stairs. He was going to be a father and everything seemed okay. For now. . . .

So, did you like it? Was the sex part gross? Good? Maybe? Lol. I try. Well, give me reviews! (Of more than one person) XOXO

-Rae-


	6. Chapter 6

Erik was becoming annoyed. Raoul wasn't leaving as he said he would. Christine's accident had sparked him to stay an extra two weeks, and now he was considering not leaving at all. He groaned inwardly as he sat in one of the Opera seats, watching Carlotta slaughter a beautiful composition. He was going to have to convince Raoul that he needed to leave, both for himself and his relationship with Christine. With a ghastly high note polluting the air, Erik stood and walked to the hall of the theater. He couldn't take this anymore.

Christine stood stage left, waiting for her cue to come on. She was glad she hadn't won the lead this time. She'd be too sick to practice. Even now, with her utterly small dancing part, she would rather be back in her room, asleep. Nausea poisoned her thoughts. She sighed and looked across at the other wing. She saw Meg smile. Past her shoulder stood Raoul. His face was set hard as it had been since she'd broken off their engagement.

But in truth, Christine didn't want him to leave. A part of her wanted to tell him and let him understand, to hold her and comfort her. He was a rock she could always depend on and if he was gone, she didn't know who she'd turned to. The thought of being alone was sad and solitary. She didn't accept it eagerly. Yes, Meg and Madame Giry would try to help her, but they couldn't hold her in a secure way, and tell her that they would keep her from harm. She bit her lip as some tears flooded her vision. Lost in thought, she forgot the cue and led the entire ballet squad in near ten seconds late. Madame Giry's voice chided her mercilessly.

"Christine! Did you forget the timing we had practiced? We wanted you in on the third count of the twelfth measure. Perhaps I should assign the leader spot to another?" She asked with a harsh tone. Christine bowed her head.

"As you wish, Madame Giry. Should you keep me, I will not forget again." Giry glared at her coldly.

"I definitely hope not. Go back to places in the offstage and we will work from there." The instructor felt bad for being so harsh and it wounded her heart to see Christine's hurt face. But she couldn't be soft on just one girl because she was a favorite. The other ballerinas would hate her if she got special treatment. Sighing, Giry moved back aside and watched the girls perform again, shouting out orders and scoldings when the were needed. These next few months would be torture for her adopted daughter.

Raoul sighed. That was the last of his luggage. He smiled weakly at the crowd that gathered to see him off. The carriage driver was getting impatient. Raoul would have to be quick. He saw Christine immediately. She was in the front of everyone in a flattering magenta dress. Her eyes were sad. He felt satisfaction that she would really miss me. At least he meant something to her.

"I hope you find whatever you're looking for while you're gone, Raoul. I'll be here when you get back." She leaned over and pressed her lips against his innocently. "Until we meet again." Before Raoul could respond, she had been swallowed into the crowd and was gone. He said goodbyes to the others, all of them short and most unsincere. He wouldn't miss anything about the Opera Populaire other than Christine and the popularity it gave him. As he reached Malakai he reached out to shake the powerful man's hand. He knew the Opera House would be safe in his care. Somehow, this War hero had a knack for music and props. He smiled weakly at his business partner.

"Take care of Populaire, alright? I'll be back in four months time. Until then, I ask only one thing." Erik pretended to look amused. He wiggled his eyebrows to try and get Raoul to keep going. The faster he talked, the faster he left. If only he had killed Raoul before he'd gone to the priest. . . .He smirked inwardly.

"Take care of Christine? She needs a friend, Malakai, and I trust you. I love and her and I want to know she's happy. She's my world." He smiled and they used french tradition and kissed cheeks. Raoul then climbed into the awaiting carriage. He waved and Erik watched until they were out of site.

"Well, his world was just impregnated." He said to himself, laughing at his own jest. With a twirl of his cape, he disappeared into the depths of the theater. Where _had_ Christine run off to? He was eager to find her and see her reaction to her childhood sweatheart's departure. It was in the scaffolding that he heard the sobs.It was a light, delicate cry. But Erik recognized it and followed the sound to the chapel.

"Christine?" Malakai entered the room. Ashamed of her tears, Christine wiped them away fiercely. She smiled a fake, pained smile.

"Hello, Malakai. Do you need something of me?" She asked, fighting simply for her voicenottoquiver. The captain shook his head with a shy, soft smile.

"Well, you can start with telling me why you're crying. Is it Raoul?" He asked hopefully, unable to mask the acrid tone with which he stated the name of his rival. Christine laughed through her tears.

"No, it's. . . .nothing." Christine finished lamely. She was about to spill everything. The strong captain kneeled next to her.

"You're a liar." He said lightly and he smirked playfully. She gave a chuckle and felt a warmness fill her as she could feel his body heat next to her.

"Yes, it's Raoul. He was my one stable in my life, in a world of variables. Now he is gone." She stated. She looked into his eyes. They were concerned and warm. They reminded her of someone. . . .she sighed when she couldn't remember.

"Perhaps you'll allow me to be a constant for you?" Malakai asked hopefully. Erik's heart thudded rapidly in his chest. Christine looked over at him, surprised at his bluntness. But she had to admit she was attracted to the captain. He was sophisticated and a leader. He knew what he wanted and what he needed of the different areas of the company to make a perfect performance. He could even boss Carlotta around. And she would listen to him. He was wise and he was a secure man to be around. Christine smiled at him.

"Perhaps. . . ." Erik felt his heart stop as his mind soared into orbit. He was about to weave his way back into Christine Daae's life, whether she like it or not.


End file.
